


Bleeding Black in the Dark

by arikylo



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Hurt!noctis, Secret Injury, Some Swearing, Starscourge afflicted!Noctis, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, daemon attack, daemon!Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arikylo/pseuds/arikylo
Summary: With the group out of supplies, Noctis doesn’t want to trouble his friends with his recently acquired injury. He’s had worse before and he’s sure it’ll be fine until morning.Unfortunately, under the cover of night, Noctis doesn’t notice that the blood he’s bleeding is black.





	Bleeding Black in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2019. Prompt: Secret Injury.

They hadn’t meant to stay out past nightfall, but the hunt had gotten out of hand and when they had finally looked up from the field of freshly felled corpses, the sky was a deep purple plunging swiftly towards black.

They had dropped their post-hunt congratulations in an instant and bolted, all too aware of the dangers that lurked in the night. Unfortunately, they had a long way to run—their camp was over a mile away and they had left the Regalia parked right next to it—and their ‘nice afternoon walk’ was now looking more and more like a suicide trip. Because, as always, stupid decisions led to unfortunate consequences. They really ought to know that by now.

As it was, they barely made it halfway before the daemons attacked.

They had tried to keep running—Ignis had spotted the dark energy pooling on the ground and they had all swerved sideways, hoping to escape the enemy’s sights. So focused on the Iron Giant clawing its way up out of the ground, they didn’t notice the swarm of goblins approaching from the other direction until they were basically tripping over them.

That had left them surrounded, not to mention outnumbered and already weary from their arduous hunt. They had summoned their weapons and engaged, reluctant but desperate. Noctis still wasn’t entirely sure how they had managed to escape.

One moment he had been falling on his face after tripping over a goblin, the next he was being hauled to his feet by Gladio and shoved in the direction of the haven. He hadn’t asked how Gladio had managed to clear them an opening, he just ran. The haven was still a long way off and he couldn’t risk falling into the range of the daemons again, particularly not when more had decided to join the fray.

Noctis sprinted, eyes wide and breath puffing. He could vaguely make out the blue light of the haven’s runes in the distance, but it was distorted and blurry thanks to the cold sweat dripping into his eyes. Prompto was some twenty or thirty metres ahead, also running for dear life, though at least he had a light to see by. Noctis’s own light had given out sometime during the daemon attack, which had been thoroughly inconvenient to say the least.

A flash of light from behind illuminated a boulder in his path and he jumped, praying to keep his footing. He stumbled a little as he landed but kept moving, though he winced as he felt a stitch form in his side. Gritting his teeth, he kept running. There was no time to slacken off or catch his breath.

Ahead of him, he saw Prompto reach the base of the haven. The rock formation was high on this side and Prompto had to scramble up some rocky ledges to make it to the top. Noctis saw him pull himself up and jump for joy as he set foot on the rune covered rock.

“Woohoo, we made it!” he heard Prompto cry.

The stitch in Noctis’s side was growing painful, but he reached the rocky outcrop without further incident. Jamming his foot against a nearby boulder, he grabbed a ledge and pushed himself up, catching Prompto’s extended hand midway and letting himself be hauled the rest of the way to the top. He scrambled over the ledge, panting.

And screamed.

Pain like a white hot fire tore through his side and he almost blacked out from the intensity of it. Noctis threw one hand out to catch himself as he fell to his knees, the other went straight to his side.

“Noct?” Prompto sounded concerned. “You oka—”

“Gladio, look out!” The scream came from below.

Panic surged through Noctis at Ignis’s tone. He wanted to stand, wanted to rush to his friends’ aid despite the pain he was in. But all he could do was heave, teeth clenched and fingers clutching his side.

Fingers that were swiftly turning sticky.

Noctis froze, a hollow dread worming its way into his belly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Prompto turn away, saw a glint of metal and heard two gunshots go off. Noctis swallowed nervously and slid his fingers out from under his jacket. They were covered in blood. _Shit._ When had that happened?

Boots thudded against stone behind him. Panicking, Noctis shoved his hand back under his jacket and scrambled to his feet, wincing as his head spun. He felt sick, but the sight of both Ignis and Gladio clambering safely onto the haven was enough to push the pain and nausea away for a moment. Relief washed through him. His friends, whilst panting and bloodstained, didn’t look to be injured. Thank the Astrals. He had been worried.

“I thought we were gonna _die_,” Prompto exclaimed as he sunk into one of the chairs they had left out the night before.

_“You_ sure weren’t gonna die,” Gladio said as he brushed himself down and dismissed his greatsword, “the way you bolted like that. Iggy and I, however...”

Prompto went bright red. “I—hey, you _told_ me to—”

“I think we can all agree,” Ignis cut in before the situation could devolve—though Gladio gave a laugh that said he was joking, “that we are lucky to be alive.”

Ignis snapped on the lantern by the tent and Noctis reflexively took a step back as his head flared in pain. Gods, he had stood up too quick. Though the pain was beginning to retreat, it was still enough to make him tremble.

“Perhaps next time,” Ignis continued, “you’ll listen to my suggestion about taking the Regalia when we go hunting. Or better yet, we could—”

“Let me guess,” Gladio interrupted. “Not hunt that close to nightfall? We get it, Iggy. It was a stupid decision. We won’t do it again.”

Ignis raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but just shook his head and sighed, clearly too exhausted to argue any further. He moved over to the camp stove and switched it on. Though it was late and they were tired, they still needed to eat. As Ignis pulled out some vegetables and began chopping, Gladio turned away to get the fire going and Prompto pulled out his phone. Noctis just stood there.

Still half reeling from the pain and now attempting to blink back an encroaching headache, Noctis felt oddly out of place. Everyone had settled into a comfortable silence so quickly despite the nearly disastrous hunt—they had been through enough close calls that it was an easy enough thing to do these days—but here he was, standing awkwardly in the shadows, blood squelching under his fingers every time he moved. He knew he needed medical attention, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had missed the opportunity to ask for it. That was stupid, he knew, but the prospect of breaking the settled silence with ‘oh, by the way, I’m bleeding and have been since we got back’ was not particularly appealing. It wasn’t so much an issue of swallowing his pride, but rather swallowing his anxiety—and that was a much more difficult thing to do, he had learned, even when surrounded by friends. He’d probably make them feel bad for not noticing earlier and then _he’d_ feel bad and ugh...

Noctis rubbed at his aching forehead and sighed. Maybe he should just go to bed and deal with this all in the morning. His wound would probably be fine til then and besides, if he was first in the tent, no one would catch sight of his inju—_oh_. Noctis almost smacked himself on the head as he realised the more obvious solution. He could just disappear into the tent claiming he wanted to get changed, summon a potion and heal himself, couldn’t he? No need for awkward interruptions and no lectures. So simple. Curse this blasted headache. He should have thought of that sooner.

“Noct, we’ll need to stop by the store first thing in the morning,” Ignis said before Noctis could so much as make a move towards the tent. “Our supply of curatives ran out midway through the fight.”

Noctis looked up sharply at that.

“Though I’m not sure anyone noticed,” Ignis muttered as he scraped the vegetables into a pot and gave it a stir.

Noctis stared.

Oh.

Oh _shit._

He _had_ noticed during the fight, but it had slipped his mind the instant Gladio had cleared them an opening. After all, thoughts about making shopping lists tended to go out the window when you were running for your life, and upon reaching the haven he had been too distracted by the pain in his side to remember. Noctis felt his stomach sink.

“We’re lucky no one was injured,” Ignis continued as he pulled out even more vegetables. His knife slowed for a second between chopping and he frowned. “No one was injured, right?” He directed the question at the group.

“Nope!” Prompto chimed. Gladio just shook his head.

Noctis froze when Ignis looked his way. He gave a short shake of his head, hoping it looked normal. It must have, because Ignis nodded a second later and returned to his cooking. Relief washed through Noctis—he had never been good at lying—but he also felt a little bit guilty.

He knew he shouldn’t be lying about his wounds, but he still couldn’t bring himself to break the relieved atmosphere with the awkward news. It wasn’t like there was anything to be done about it anyway—they had no potions and he knew their backup supplies were pretty scarce too. There might be a couple of bandages in one of the bags, but that would be it. If he wanted proper medical attention, he’d have to wait until morning. Heading out at this hour was not an option.

Unfortunately, that meant keeping his injury to himself, because he knew that if any of his friends caught wind of his situation, they’d be driving out into the night without a second thought, no matter how much Ignis usually refused to take the wheel after dark. He wasn’t going to let them do that for him. Particularly not after what had happened earlier.

Sighing, Noctis resigned himself to a sleepless night. At least he wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out. Or, well… he didn’t think he was. Though he couldn’t see the wound, the blood under his fingers felt like it was clotting. Noctis picked the chair furthest from the fire and started moving towards it. He just had to hope that no one paid him too much attention tonight.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be so lucky.

“You sure you’re okay, Noct?” Prompto asked. There was a frown on his face and his phone lay forgotten in his lap.

Noctis stopped in his tracks and tried to look normal. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“You just sounded like you were in pain when I pulled you up onto the haven.”

Oh, right. Prompto had seen that, hadn’t he?

“Yeah… uh, just…” Noctis hurried to find an excuse, “twisted my ankle a bit.” Yeah. That was good. Simple and requiring no evidence. Oh, wait. Nope. Not good. Now Ignis was looking at him with concern. “It’s fine now, though,” Noctis quickly added. “See.” He took what was meant to be a pain-free step. Instead, his side twinged and he grimaced. He tried to hide it behind a smile, but wasn’t sure how successful he was.

Ignis eyed him for a moment. “Best sit down and rest it just in case,” he said before returning to the stove. Prompto nodded.

Noctis wasn’t entirely sure if Ignis had missed the grimace or was just humouring him, but he wasn’t going to pass up such a good dismissal and lack of scrutiny.

“Wasn’t like I was going to do anything else,” Noctis grumbled, hoping he sounded like his usual self. He brushed at his jacket with his good hand and turned back to his chair. Unfortunately, whilst Ignis’s attention had easily moved elsewhere, Prompto and Gladio had their eyes narrowed. Great.

Noctis threw them a smile before he moved as casually as he could towards his seat. His hand was still tucked awkwardly under his jacket and it was probably beginning to look suspicious, but there was nothing he could do about it until his friends weren’t looking. Until then, he’d have to pretend everything was fine.

That was easier said than done.

His side twinged again as he lowered himself into his seat. Luckily, he had been expecting that and managed to keep the grimacing to a minimum. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the dull throbbing in his side that came as a result of his seated posture. It seemed to mirror the thudding in his temples, creating a rhythm of ache and pain that, whilst only minorly irritating now, would no doubt become a frustration in the near future.

Doing his best to ignore it, Noctis settled back in his chair, extended his legs and pretended to rest. Prompto returned to his phone a moment later, seemingly satisfied. Gladio’s gaze lingered longer, but then he, too, turned away.

Well, not quite. Though Gladio’s eyes lingered on the fire, Noctis could tell he was still being watched. Noctis sighed and tried not to squirm. Resting his elbow against the armrest and his cheek against his hand, he shut his eyes and did his best to ignore the pain until dinner.

It was maybe twenty minutes later when Ignis finally finished cooking. Hearing a clatter of cutlery and the sound of footsteps, Noctis cracked an eye open to see Specs proffering bowls of something steaming to Prompto and Gladio.

Noctis seized his opportunity as the bowls were passed over. Slipping his hand out from under his jacket, he barely got a glance at it before he hurriedly wiped it on his pants. Luckily, his clothes were already filthy. Covered in dirt and blood from the fight, no one would notice a late addition to the mess. He glanced down at his hand to check his progress and _wow._ He didn’t know why he had bothered hiding it in the first place. His other hand was just as dirty. Had he rubbed that against his face? Gods, he must look a mess. But at least he was a mess _all over_ and not just in one particular spot. He rubbed his hands against his pants one last time and leaned back.

When Ignis turned his way with a bowl, Noctis was sitting nonchalantly and feeling substantially less stressed. Though the wound was still throbbing and he had to keep adjusting his jacket so the blood wouldn’t seep through, he managed to make it through the meal relatively well. He didn’t eat much, but that wouldn’t be suspicious—the meal was ninety percent vegetables, after all.

Exhausted from the day’s events, the guys decided to retire shortly after dinner rather than partake in their usual nightly conversation. Noctis would have joined them if not for his situation, but getting ready for bed meant getting changed, and there was no way he was risking anyone catching a glimpse of his wound.

So, whilst everyone was moving around attending to their nightly routines, Noctis took the opportunity to slip over to the spare bags and pocket a rolled bandage, of which they only had _two._ They really needed to manage their supplies better.

Noctis returned to his seat in the shadows and leaned his head back._ Gods,_ but it was throbbing now. The ache had remained relatively constant throughout dinner, but during the time spent preparing for bed it had steadily gotten worse. Shutting his eyes, he did his best to relax and pretend to be asleep.

He listened quietly as everyone shuffled into the tent, though someone lingered a moment, presumably having noticed Noctis wasn’t with them.

“Noct?” Prompto called.

“Mmm?” Noctis murmured, cracking an eye open and feigning bleariness—which honestly wasn’t all that hard given the ache behind his eyes. Both Prompto and Gladio had paused in the tent’s entrance to look at him.

“You comin’ to bed?”

“Later,” Noctis replied. “Just… wanna stay up a bit. Got some things on my mind.”

Not a lie, exactly—and not entirely unusual for him either. Prompto nodded, a look of understanding on his face.

“We’ll leave the light on for you.”

“No, it’s okay. Switch it off. I have the fire.”

The fire was all but embers now, glowing dully in the darkness. It would be barely enough to see by once the light was out, but Noctis found himself craving darkness. Every time he looked near the lamp his head flared in pain.

“Night, Prom,” Noctis murmured, hoping Prompto would take the dismissal for what it was. “Night, Gladio.”

Prompto’s gaze lingered a moment longer, his brows furrowed, but he nodded and switched off the light. It didn’t take long for the shuffling inside the tent to still and the light inside to go out, leaving Noctis not only in the dark, but also in silence. It did wonders for his headache.

His side, however, was still throbbing. But despite the urge to stand and relieve some of the pressure, Noctis remained seated and waited, because he knew that if he moved now someone would hear and come check on him. He shut his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.

He must have dozed off somehow, because when he opened his eyes again, the fire had all but gone out and the haven was now lit only by the blue light of the runes. Definitely enough time had passed.

Moving slowly, he tried not to groan as he rose from his seat. Gods, he ached everywhere. And when had it gotten so chilly? He shivered, rubbing his hands against his arms. Or was it just him? Because the breeze that brushed against him was definitely warm. Noctis frowned, bringing his hand up to rest against his forehead.

He cursed under his breath at the heat his skin gave off. He had a fever, or was close to getting one, at least. Was his wound infected? Could that even happen this quick?

Noctis stumbled over to the edge of the haven, limbs feeling heavy, and sat down, dangling his legs over the side. Pulling out the bandage he had nabbed earlier, he gingerly pulled back his jacket and examined his wound.

Well, tried to. He couldn’t see much in the dark and the blue lights of the runes weren’t particularly helpful. If only his damn light hadn’t given out earlier… He didn’t even have his phone with him to use as a torch—Prompto had sequestered it earlier, along with everyone else’s, to be charged overnight. They had made the mistake of not doing that once and had never forgotten again. If only they were as good at keeping on top of their supplies as they were their phone batteries…

Squinting, Noctis prodded cautiously at his side. His shirt was tattered and soaked dark around the wound. The wound itself was a mess, sticky and lumpy with clotted blood and mangled flesh. By the Six, what had he _done?_ He remembered his jacket light going out, remembered tripping over something and falling. He had grabbed something on the way down, hadn’t he? Grappled with it and—oh. Right. He had landed on something hard. A rock, he had thought, though looking at the wound now he wasn’t so sure about that. What else could it have been, though?

Noctis sighed and tried to push the troublesome thought from his mind. It didn’t matter what had caused it, it was there and he couldn’t do anything about it until morning. At least he was correct in his earlier presumption and wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out. Unrolling his bandage, he wound it around his waist as best he could with his limited movement. Whether it was any use, he wasn’t sure, but at least he could say he had tried if he was caught by one of his friends.

Wound sorted, Noctis sighed and stared out at the dark landscape. A gentle breeze was rustling the shrubs that dotted the sloping hills and the grass shimmered intermittently in the pale, barely-there light of the stars. What he wouldn’t give to be out there right now, running free in the night, the breeze on his face, unhindered and untamed and—

Noctis shook his head. No. Those thoughts weren’t right. He knew the dangers of the dark. Why would he want to be out there? Alone and unprotected? That was suicide.

Still… There was something oddly tempting about the idea… An alluring freedom, of sorts. Something he had always sought after...

No. Noctis ground his teeth and shook his head again. Not right. Stop it.

Shivering, he pulled his legs close to his chest. He was cold but at the same time he felt hot. His pulse thudded loudly in his ears and his body ached. Something inside his head, inside his very veins, was telling him to move. Telling him to step out into the dark. Get off the haven. Go.

Noctis looked down at the rocky outcropping surrounding the campground. What would be the harm in just slipping down there for a moment? As far as he knew, daemons didn’t come that close to havens and it wasn’t like he was planning on going any further. Right? All he wanted was relief from the damned _pull_ in his chest and the weird urges in his head.

He shuffled closer to the edge and reached a leg down to touch one of the rocky shelves below. Something washed through him and he shivered. Was it relief? It certainly felt like it. Some of the pain in his head faded. He shifted his weight and reached his other leg down.

“Noct? Where are you?”

Noctis jolted. He pulled his legs back up and scooted away from the edge in a hurry, heart pounding in his chest.

“Over here,” he answered quickly as he turned to look at Prompto, who was walking over with a look of concern on his face. Noctis forced a smile despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to growl at Prompto for ruining his chance at relief. His headache had returned the instant he had slipped back onto the haven, and it felt even _worse_ this time. It was no longer throbbing but _bashing_ against his skull, beating his brain into a haze. He blinked, grimacing.

“Gods, your hands are _still_ covered in daemon blood,” Prompto said as the light of his phone fell on Noctis. “I’m amazed Iggy didn’t make you clean them before dinner.”

It should have clicked. It really, really should have. But Noctis’s mind was swirling and he frowned as he looked at his hands. They _were_ covered in blood. Some of it was dried, but most of it was fresh. And in the light of Prompto’s phone, it was undeniably black.

Not dried blood black. Daemon black.

Noctis blinked, feeling confused. Where had that come from?

“You okay, buddy?” Prompto asked.

He wasn’t, but he said he was. “Yeah,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away from his hands.

Prompto had stopped a metre away and was hovering, brows pulled close in concern. “You sure?” His blue eyes roamed over Noctis.

They stopped at his waist.

Shit.

Noctis hurried to pull his jacket tight, but it was too late. The sight of Prompto's widening eyes was all he needed to know that his friend had spotted the bandage wrapped around his midsection. Damn medical supplies, why’d they have to go and be _white?_ Such an inconvenient colour.

“You _were_ hurt,” Prompto said, hurrying over.

“I’m fine,” Noctis muttered, turning away to hide the blush that crossed his cheeks from being caught out so quickly. He should have realised his bandage would be so obvious. Why hadn’t he realised? “Just… landed on a rock during the fight. Nothing major.”

His eyes landed on the horizon and something tugged at him. He heard Prompto sit down beside him, felt hands tug his jacket to the side. All the while, his gaze remained locked on the night. He felt transfixed almost, thoughts grinding to a muddied halt as he stared. There was a nervous energy in his chest akin to anxiety and the urge to run—to get off the haven and _go_—was rapidly returning.

“Shit,” he heard Prompto hiss. _“‘Nothing major’?_ Noct, you’re—”

Fingers pressed against Noctis’s side and he yelped in pain. He pulled away from Prompto—though something odd inside would have preferred to pull _closer_—and scrambled to his feet. He took a couple of shaky steps towards the ledge. His head was throbbing with the call of the night. It was a rhythm of promise. A promise of freedom. A promise of relief from his pain. And oh, how it called to him.

He took another step forward.

“Noct, what the hell, bud—”

Fingers grabbed at his wrist, but he jerked away with a hiss. And before Prompto could grab him again, he jumped.

It was a longer fall than he had anticipated and he misjudged the landing. His knees smacked against the rock and he gasped, tumbling into an awkward roll. He threw his hands out to stop himself but wasn’t quick enough. His head collided with the rock base. It should have knocked him out.

It didn’t. In fact, as he rolled over to face the sky, blinking blearily, his mind somehow felt clearer, as if the fog that had been seeping through had been suddenly swept back. Honestly, he hadn’t even noticed how thick the fog had been until it was gone. What was going on?

_“Noct!”_

He saw Prompto’s wide eyes peer down at him. Saw his friend move to follow.

Noctis raised a hand, his wound flaring in pain with the movement.

“Don’t,” he gasped, clutching at his side. “Don’t come down. Something’s wrong.”

Something was so very wrong. How had he only just noticed?

He felt like he was burning up from the inside. At the same time, he was shivering. He felt nauseous and as he pulled himself to his feet, he felt the fog in his mind creep back again, its wispy claws trying to snatch away his clarity. He tried to push it away but the harder he strained the quicker it came streaming in. He felt the pull again. Heard the night’s call.

He couldn’t resist it.

Noctis turned slowly to look out at the horizon again. He caught movement from Prompto as he did so—saw his friend look down at his hands, saw the blood smeared across pale skin. He saw Prompto’s eyes widen. But as Noctis laid eyes on the darkness again, all the warning signs in his head switched off.

A note of panic crept into Prompto’s voice. “Noct… That’s not—you’re not—”

He heard Prompto heave a breath.

“Noct, your blood is _black_.”

But Prompto’s words never registered, because as Noctis stared out at the horizon, he couldn’t deny the draw of the dark any longer. His clarity slipped. Something in his mind clouded over.

* * *

Prompto looked up from his black-stained hands to see Noctis stiffen. It was an unnatural stiffness and it made Prompto’s skin crawl.

“N… Noct? Buddy?”

Noctis didn’t move, gaze locked on the night beyond the haven.

Prompto’s heart was racing and he felt lightheaded. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

Noctis had said he had fallen on a rock, but the black blood smeared on Prompto’s fingers said otherwise. Prompto knew what it meant. He was just having difficulty believing it.

Because how could a _daemon_ have gotten to _Noctis_ and _no one had noticed?_

Except they _had_ noticed. Noctis had seemed off and Prompto had questioned him about it. But he had had no reason to suspect his friend would lie to him—particularly not about something as big as a _daemon bite._ What the hell had he been thinking keeping that to himself? Gods, they should have questioned him further. Should have pinned him down and forced it out of him or _something._

Because now Noctis was standing outside the safety of the haven, bleeding black ichor and looking as if he was about to elope with the night.

Because his _best friend_ had been _infected_ and was going to turn into a fucking _daemon._

And Prompto was about to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to_ do._ They should have had more supplies. Why didn’t they have more supplies?

Noctis took a slow step away from the haven, movements eerily sinuous. He paused, head tilted slightly, as if listening.

Prompto opened his mouth to call for help. But then Noctis spoke.

“Come down.”

Prompto stared, blood running cold. “What?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Come down,” Noctis all but purred.

There was something wrong with his voice. It wasn’t daemonic but it wasn’t Noctis either. And it sent chills of terror up Prompto’s spine.

Prompto scrambled to his feet, sweating. He tried to call for help again, but his words died in his throat as Noctis turned around.

There was something wrong with his eyes, too. And his expression… gods. Completely blank but for a burning behind the pupils, a feral intensity that threatened to activate Prompto’s fight-or-flight response.

“Do come down,” Noctis said again, lips curling into a dark grin. His voice was sinking lower each time he spoke.

Prompto’s hands were shaking and his breaths were coming fast now. He needed to call for help—for Ignis and Gladio to come here _now_—but his voice just wouldn’t work. Noctis took a step forward and Prompto took a step back, fearful despite the distance between them.

But then Noctis hissed and shied back, pain contorting his face as he reached a hand for his head. Noctis staggered backwards, away from the haven, and only then did Prompto regain his voice, suddenly terrified that his best friend was about to be consumed by the night and never come back.

“Iggy!” he called, voice high pitched and trembling. “Gladio!”

Below him, Noctis came to a halt just out of reach of the glowing light of the haven runes. He glared up at Prompto, pupils tinted with an odd, yellow glow. He tilted his head as rustling sounds came from the tent. Rushing footsteps soon followed. Noctis’s lips pulled back in a snarl and he took a step backwards as the camp lantern flickered on. His whole body tensed. He looked as if he was about to run.

Prompto rushed to the edge of the haven, panicking. “No!” he called. “Noct, don’t—”

“What the hell is going on,” Gladio growled as he and Ignis appeared at Prompto’s side. The light from their phones shone down on Noctis, throwing even more light onto the already skittish prince. Noctis hissed.

And bolted.

“No!” Prompro screamed, making to run after Noctis. But strong hands grabbed him and pulled him back before he could leap off the edge. He struggled against Gladio’s grip but before he knew it, he was on the floor, knees having given out beneath him. His hands were shaking. His whole _body_ was shaking. Not good, not good, not _good._

“Prompto, what—” Gladio’s voice cut off as Prompto’s hand was yanked upwards.

There was silence as both Ignis and Gladio stared at the black blood on Prompto’s fingers.

“Is that…” Ignis whispered.

“N… Noct’s…” was all Prompto could manage. His throat felt tight.

He heard Ignis inhale sharply and Gladio curse. The grip on his wrist slackened and Prompto’s arm fell limply into his lap. Though he stared blankly at the runes on the ground in front of him, his mind was racing.

This was his fault, this was his fault, _this was his fault._ He should have done something. Should have called the guys earlier. Should have grabbed Noct and not let go. Should have tumbled over the side with him if that was what it would have taken to keep his best friend safe and secure. He should have—

“Prompto.”

He was hyperventilating.

_“Prompto.”_ Ignis’s voice was gentle but firm. He felt arms close around him, not harsh like before, not restricting, but calm and comforting. He didn’t know how long they sat there, pulled close, but eventually his breathing returned to normal and he was able to choke out the words that he had been desperate to say.

“We need to go after him.”

“We will.” Ignis’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. It didn’t inspire the same confidence it usually did.

Prompto rubbed at his eyes and sat up properly, anxiety rising in his chest.

“Iggy?” he asked.

Ignis sighed and Gladio, who was standing to the side, shifted uncomfortably.

“We’ll go after Noctis,” Ignis said, not meeting Prompto’s gaze. “But I’m… not sure we’ll find him.” He lifted his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “At least, not as himself.”

Prompto stared at Ignis, feeling his heart sink. No… _No._ How could this be happening? How could things go so wrong so quick? He turned to look out at the horizon. Noctis was nowhere to be seen and the night was as dark as ever. Was his friend truly lost? Or would he be able to hold on long enough til they found him? Despite the yellow light behind his pupils, Noct’s eyes had still been blue and his skin hadn’t taken on the sickly, black-veined colouring of a daemon just yet. The infection had only just happened and Noctis was strong. He could hold it off. Right?

Ignis and Gladio looked defeated already, but Prompto couldn’t afford to think like that. At least, not until he saw Noct for himself. Not until they tried everything they could to bring him back.

And they _would_ try everything they could. There had to be _some_ way to save him.

Prompto stared out at the dark night sky.

_Please, buddy,_ he thought. _Hang on. We’re coming._

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst there's no second part to this, [Lucidity at Last](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971130) works as an unintentional Bad Ending if you're interested ;)


End file.
